Her Beauty
by Courtney-Helena Greene
Summary: He never saw her as broken. He never saw her invisible scars. He never realized how twisted she was inside. He never realized that she hid so much sadness under such a pretty face. Klaroline, Human Caroline. AT.


HER BEAUTY

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SUMMARY

He never saw her as broken. He never saw her invisible scars. He never realized how twisted she was inside. He never realized that she hid so much sadness under such a pretty face. Klaroline, Human Caroline. AT.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hi, there. I'm pretty sure you'll like this fic, because it's truly written from my heart. Please don't ever bully someone. Please, please, please. The insecurities I'm describing through Caroline are so gut-wrenchingly real. Keep your razors in your pocket, it's unnecessary to scar someone's soul.

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DISCLAIMER

I don't own The Vampire Diaries. The only thing I own is the plot, and I hate it more than you could ever imagine.

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HER BEAUTY

Klaus pushed open dark wooden door that opened into his grand, empty entryway. He pulled his scarf from round his neck and discarded it on the ground, kicking off his shoes beside the pile. He dragged his feet all the way to the kitchen, where he tossed his jacket over a stool and poured an amber liquid into a crystal cup. He downed the glass, swished it in his mouth, then spit it on the floor. "Disgusting," he hissed, tossing the rest of the bottle onto the floor. "Humans have the most vile tastes."

He opened a cabinet that doubled as a mini fridge, then pulled out a bag of O negative. He poured the red liquid into his glass, then took a sip. "That's better," he snapped his fingers and a glassy-eyed woman appeared. "Clean this up, Renee."

He picked up a remote and turned on his radio, Debussy filling his spacious living room. He plopped onto his leather couch and took another sip from his glass before leaning his head back and simply listening. He could hear every separate pitch in Debussy's piece, every note becoming more distinct as he sipped the cool red liquid in his glass. He could hear every strand of Renee's broom rubbing against each other, and he could hear the sound of her blood rubbing against the walls of her veins. He opened his mouth to relieve the tension of his elongated fangs, then downed the last of his drink.

He sat up and saw Renee standing in the kitchen, task completed. "Go away," Klaus hissed, and the dark-haired girl complied quickly. He settled back into his cold leather couch, ignoring the fact that the only life in the house was being manipulated by him. Klaus's eyelids fluttered shut as he imagined a big family and headache inducing commotion and a pretty blonde girl who warmed his couch with a touch.

He smelled her before he heard her.

Her scent was stronger than usual, which set him on alert. Stronger scents meant stronger emotions, but of course with Caroline that could just mean she was excited about an upcoming dance. He made his way lazily to the door, knowing that she was probably just there to rant to him, her "best friend". Klaus hated friends. Caroline knew that.

The door was opened before she could even raise her hand to knock. Klaus leaned against the door frame, ready to make some sarcastic remark when he finally saw her. Her tears were stained black from the mascara running down her face, her eyes and nose were red and puffy, and most of all she was shaking uncontrollably. His eyes widened in surprise, which didn't happen to him very often. Caroline didn't seem to notice as she pushed past him, making her way for the stairs.

"Caroline!" Klaus called. When she didn't respond he dashed after her, unsure of where she was going.

He followed her up to his bedroom, where she began to rip through his things like a tornado. "Where are they?" She screamed, pulling things out of a drawer and tossing them to the floor.

"Caroline, calm down," Klaus held out his arms, trying to make his way toward her.

"Don't touch me!" She hissed, tearing through his closet. "Where are they?"

"I don't know what you're-"

"Don't fuck with me, Klaus," Her blue eyes bored into his, and he rubbed his eyes, breaking contact.

"They're in the shoebox under my bed," Klaus frowned as Caroline hurriedly pulled out the box and clutched one of his drawings. Her shaking increased,

"Why do you draw me like this?" She whispered, and Klaus couldn't tell if it was terror or rage that tainted her voice.

"Like what?"

"Like this!" She held up a painting of her gazing at the floor, rosy cheeked and grinning ear-to-ear,

Klaus melted a bit at the sight of the painting. "That one is my favourite."

"I don't look like this," Caroline whimpered. She pulled out another drawing and another painting. "None of these look like me! Why do you draw me like that? Do you think it's funny?" Caroline stood inches in front of Klaus, glaring at him.

Klaus held up his hands and his eyebrows knit together. "I don't understand! Draw you _how_?"

"Pretty," Caroline choked out the word, "pretty. You draw me and I look so beautiful, but I _know_ that I don't look like that," her words dripped acid and she punched him in the chest repeatedly, "You're. A. Dirty. Filthy. Rotten. Liar. And. I. Hate-"

Klaus grabbed her thin wrists and used them to pull her in close to him, his arms clasping her frail body. "Please don't touch me," Caroline whined, "I don't deserve it."

Klaus held her as she cried and tried to wriggle away. After a second she stopped, and wrapped her arms around him. She sobbed into his t-shirt, and the soul-shattering noises she made ate away at him. He was the only thing holding her up, so he sat on the floor and held her between his legs, running a graceful hand through her blonde hair.

After what seemed like an eternity, her crying stopped, and soon after that her breathing returned to normal. Klaus continued to rub her back and stroke her hair, and finally placed a kiss on her head and nuzzled his nose into her hair. "What's wrong, love?"

"I found him," Caroline croaked, her throat hoarse from crying.

"Who, darling?" Klaus rubbed her arms, trying to warm her up. She felt so hopelessly cold.

"All through middle school I was called horrible names. Anorexic. Broken home. They told me it was my fault my father left, and they said that I was worthless. Useless. They said I should just kill myself. They told me I was ugly and gross, and that I could never amount to anything. All through that hell, one boy stood by me. His name was Jordan. I really did like Jordan; he never said a bad word about me. He was always kind and sweet to everyone. Then today, he told me that he was the one fueling my nightmares. He was the one who would go up to all of his friends and tell them to make me miserable," Silent tears slid down her cheeks as she mumbled the last part of the story, "he told me because he thought I would laugh. He made my world a living hell and he thought I would laugh."

He felt her body shake with silent sobs again, and she pushed away from him. "You can't love me. I'm nothing. I'm just a pretty face."

"Caroline," he held her arms tightly, not allowing her to move away. "You," he kissed one of her tears, "are," another, "my," the last one, "world. Whoever this boy is won't be around for much longer. No one can fill your head with such lies because, darling, I can't _not_ love you."

Caroline just shook, her eyes squeezed shut. He inched closer to her, making her perfectly aware of what he was doing. He moved his hands to her waist and her eyebrows knit together due to a medley of fear, disbelief, and utter need. When he pressed his lips to hers he put his heart into it, trying to convey to her what he felt.

He could feel the shock reverberate through her. Not from the kiss, but from the emotion. She tentatively kissed back, but her kiss was soon replaced by a frantic fervor, her wanting to know he had her and she was safe. Klaus was relishing the taste of her strawberry-vanilla mouth mixed with her tears, now from relief. Caroline wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed into him, praying the kiss would never end.

Eventually, though, she had to pull away for air. She nuzzled into his neck and cried there, Klaus once again stroking her hair and rubbing her back. "I need you," she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear her.

"I love you, too."

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

I hope you enjoyed that, and maybe you found some way to commiserate. If you want to see the picture, I've linked it on my profile. I hope you liked the story.

BULLYING IS SERIOUS. YOU DON'T HAVE TO LIKE SOMEONE, JUST TREAT THEM LIKE A HUMAN BEING, FOR GOD'S SAKE.


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